Everything that ever will or has happened in the girls’ toilets on a night out

Trips to the girl’s loos are arguably the best part of any night out. You make loads of friends and take cracking squad selfies. It’s a place to borrow someone’s lipstick, receive endless compliments on your banging dress, and consult on who’s going home with who.

There’s a girl sat on the floor hysterically crying over her ex-boyfriend

They broke up two years ago but after necking her fifth chocolate tequila she spotted his best mate at the other end of the bar, so now she’s in hysterics on the floor and her mates are nowhere to be seen. You feel sorry for her so you offer her some of your contraband vodka. The pair of you end up in a lengthy slagging sesh about her ex-boyfriend. You’ve never met him but he sounds like a right twat. 

You don’t know each other but tonight you’re best mates

Someone’s being violently sick in a cubicle and her squad are trying to kick the door down 

There’s a massive queue but you and the squad really need a wee. You listen to the dulcet tones of a lass chundering her stomach lining while her friends are frantically banging on the door. “Ciara, it’s Aine. If you don’t come out now I’m getting staff.” According to Aine, Ciara had two bottles of Rosé for pre-drinks and hasn’t been right since. She’s been in there for ages and there’s no sign of the queue dying down. By the time a toilet is free you’re in danger of wetting yourself, so you and your squad all pile into the stall.

There’s a conference happening in the disabled loo

Everyone takes turns to have a wee while debating whether or not Jessica should go home with the boy who bought her a Sambuca shot. He’s a 5/10 but the talent is shocking tonight so that bumps him up to an 8. It’s agreed that Jessica should definitely go home with him.

There’s a pass-ag fight happening over mirror space and you end up getting elbowed in the boob

Space in front of the mirror is limited and if you want to touch up your lipstick, it’s survival of the fittest. You accidentally nudge a girl who’s topping up her contour. Ten minutes ago she was saying you looked beautiful but now she’s throwing daggers because her bronzer has gone everywhere. Secretly, you want to start an argument but you know if you’re going to make it out alive then you need to be overly apologetic. You assume you properly look fine and focus on taking squad pics.

The pictures are all fun and games until someone tags you on Facebook

There’s a queue of girls waiting to air their pits under the hand-dryer

Everyone’s sweating cobs but you’re wearing white chiffon, so you have no choice but to take intervals to the hand-dryer. Your best friend runs in with coke spilled on her dress so the pair of you stand under the dryer, having a gossip about how your loose mate is on to her fifth guy of the night.

The woman selling deodorant won’t stop giving you guilt-trip stares

Toilet attendants are the most fickle friends you will make on a night out, and the most powerful. Reminiscent of Lindsay Lohan’s (arguably greatest work) “Life Size”, the toilet attendant won’t give you the time of day, but stick a pound coin in their tray and they’ll give you a budget make-over only the Noughties ever could appreciate.

Anyone need to buy some Union Jack flip flops?

You bond with a stranger over a love for New Look shoes and spend the next twenty minutes taking selfies with them

You promise to stay in touch and make a note of when they’re next out. You can’t believe they used to sit behind your cousin in a Film module and yet you’ve never met. It seems like only destiny that you should both be wearing the same shoes tonight and yes they’re rubbing her feet just like they rub yours. She’s offered you a plaster and you might just cry with gratitude. The next day your camera roll has 37 identical selfies with this girl but you have no idea who she is.

There are two girls pacing around the toilets screaming “Tanya”

They interrupt your selfie sesh to ask if you’ve seen their mate. They describe her as wearing a black bodycon dress with a clutch purse but that’s everyone in the fucking room so no, you say you haven’t seen her.

You bang on the cubicle wall until someone passes you loo roll

You’ve been sat on the loo for five minutes because your heels are killing you. You’re reminiscing over the comedy gold you were offering to the squad twenty minutes ago when you realise there’s no bog roll. Do you drip dry? No, you’re classy. Instead you scream, “I NEED TOILET ROLL”, banging on the cubicle wall with one hand, the other waiting under the stall until a scrunched up ball of tissue magically appears.